A Very Happy Birthday
by Shadow Silver Fang
Summary: Shawn never got to give Lassiter his birthday present. [LassiterShawn Slash]


"You know, I just don't think that moving is the answer."

Carlton Lassiter turned abruptly away from his over-stuffed suitcase and glared at Shawn.

"How the hell did you get in here, Spencer?"

Shawn shrugged, "One of your biker buddies let me in, he wanted me to tell you that you're out of toilet paper."

Lassiter's frown turned into a horrified grimace. "Those people were in my house?!"

"Apparently," Shawn said, looking around the bedroom he was in. "You know what? You should fire your decorator; she is just not doing her job."

Lassiter sighed in frustration and turned back to his suitcase, trying to stuff it closed, "What do you want, Spencer?"

"Come on Lassy, do you need to ask?" the whine in Shawn's voice made the detective cringe. "I didn't get to give you your present!"

"My present?" Lassiter turned back to face Shawn, a dubious look on his face. "What could you possibly give me that I would actually want?"

Shawn snapped his fingers, pointing at Lassiter and stepping farther into the room. "That is **_exactly_** the thought that went through my head when the lovely Miss O'Hara told me about this shindig. So I consulted the spirits, and they have given me guidance."

Lassiter snorted, turning his back on Shawn for the second time, "And what guidance, pray tell, did these 'spirits' give you?"

"Well, first they said I should buy you a luffa," Shawn inhaled deeply, shaking his head and sighing, "But I thought to myself, 'He may need a luffa sponge, but I don't dare enter Bed, Bath and Beyond after the tuffet incident.'"

Shawn picked up a stress ball from the dresser near Lassiter's doorway, tossing it from hand to hand idly, enjoying the sound of his own voice. "So I thought I should give you something original, something no one in their right mind would give you."

"And what is that?" His back was still turned to the 'psychic', but he heard movement behind him, and then he was aware of Shawn _very_ close to him.

"A kiss."

The words were a whisper in his ear, so close that the slight exhale of breath that accompanied them warmed his skin. His back straightened, his posture became stiff. Shawn's hands settled on his waist, gripping him gently but firmly and turning him around. Then Shawn Spencer was kissing him, his hands still on the detective's hips, their lips barely touching.

Shawn pulled away, smirking that annoying, self assured, _adorable_ smirk, and Lassiter tried to remember how to breathe.

"A kiss," he parroted, his mind oddly blank.

"Yes, Lassy, a kiss," Shawn's expression was soft, but his voice was almost mocking, and his hands were still on Lassiter's hips. "See, I knew for sure that no one would be giving you one, so I didn't bother to bring a gift receipt."

"A kiss," Lassiter said again, frowning.

He was having problems thinking, because Spencer was still right next to him, and his hands were still holding his waist. Lassiter reached down and took hold of Shawn's wrists, pushing them down, and pushing Shawn back. He was trying to push Shawn away, but he was failing to put any distance between them, as his feet were moving of their own accord, following Shawn's every step until they were next to a wall, the younger man pressed against it, and the older man pressed against him.

Lassiter was feeling hot, his mind was fuzzy and all he could think about was how pleasant it had been to kiss the annoying psychic. He leaned in, his eyes almost closing, but then hesitated, torn on the inside.

"Do it," Shawn said, pleading. "Just… do it."

Lassiter inclined his head, the tone of the psychic's voice banishing all thoughts, save for the thought that he really _did_ deserve to enjoy his birthday, just this once. So he kissed him, hard, all of his frustration with the young man pouring into it, driving him to push just a little harder. He released Shawn's hands, opting to grip his waist, tightly, pulling him away from the wall, their lips still locked as their tongues pressed together, tasting and feeling.

The two stumbled aimlessly through the bedroom, their backs and legs bumping into assorted pieces of furniture and making them change course. Lassiter was getting dizzy, their kissing had become frantic, and breathing was increasingly difficult. When he started to trip, stumbling backwards, his eyes widened and he gripped Shawn even tighter, pulling him down with him as he fell, both of them landing hard in a heap on the floor.

The pain from falling cleared his head, but he didn't know what to say. Shawn was on top of him, looking smug.

"Would it completely ruin the mood if I told you the bikers tagged your car?"

Lassiter promptly pushed him over onto the floor beside him and sat up, brushing himself off and looking annoyed.

"Happy Birthday Lassy," Shawn said from next to him, grinning.

"Go to hell Spencer," Lassiter muttered, though he couldn't help smiling, licking his lips and eying the other man's.

---

Happy Birthday Lassiter.

-sly grin- I don't think I've seen any Shawn/Carlton fiction, but you know you were all dying for something involving the two. –hides from the flames, snickering-


End file.
